


Gryffindor Princess & the Slytherin Prince

by ArtemisKent537



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 17:17:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4230222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisKent537/pseuds/ArtemisKent537
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kamryn Potter is the twin that's loved by all. Even the Dursley's seem to favor her. Read as Kam goes through her journey at Hogwarts. Where she battles trolls, giant snakes, her brothers godfather, the Triwizard tournament, and Voldemort (on multiple occasions), AND manage to fall in love with her brothers enemy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

*eleven years earlier*

 

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize that he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."

 

He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it in the air, and and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again- the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.

 

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

 

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had around its eyes. She too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn in a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.

 

"How did you know it was me?" she asked.

 

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

 

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.

 

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

 

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.

 

"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no- even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursley's dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls... shooting stars... Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bout to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent- I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had 

much sense."

 

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've precious little to celebrate for eleven years."

 

"I know that," Professor McGonagall said irritably. " But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."

She threw a sharp sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out all about us. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"

 

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

 

"A what?"

 

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of." 

 

"No, thank you," Professor McGonagall said coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone-"

 

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense- for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."

 

"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."

 

"You flatter me," Dumbledore said calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

 

"Only because you're too- well- noble to use them."

 

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

 

Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it I until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

 

"What they're saying," she pressed on,"is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are- are- that they're- dead."

 

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.

"Lily and James... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it... Oh, Albus..."

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know... I know..." he said heavily.

 

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. And their daughter, Kamryn. He couldn't kill those little twins. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry and Kamryn Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke- and that's why he's gone."

 

Dumbledore nodded glumly.

 

"It's- it's true?" Professor McGonagall faltered. "After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill two little children? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Harry and Kamryn survive?"

 

"We can only guess," Dumbledore said. "We may never know."

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very old watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

 

"Yes," Professor McGonagall said. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"

 

"I've come to bring Harry and Kamryn to their aunt and uncle. They're the only family the twins have left now."

 

"You don't mean- you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her fret and pointing to number four. "Dumbledore- you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son- I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry and Kamryn Potter come and 

live here!"

 

"It's the best place for them," Dumbledore said firmly. "Their aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to them when they're older. I've written them a letter."

 

"A letter," repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand them! They'll be famous- legends- there will be books written about the twins- every child in the world will know their names!"

 

"Exactly," Dumbledore said, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any child's head. Famous before they can walk and talk! Famous for something they won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off they'll be, growing up away from all that until they're ready to take it?"

 

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes- yes, you're right, of course. But how are the children getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding the twins underneath them.

 

"Hagrid's bringing them."

 

"You think it- wise- to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I would Hagrid with my life," Dumbledore said.

 

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He tends to- what was that?"

 

A low rumbling sound sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky- and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild- long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding two bundles of blankets.

 

"Hagrid," Dumbledore said, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

 

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got them, sir."

 

"No problems, were there?"

 

"No, sir- house was almost destroyed, but I got them out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. They fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."

 

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, were the little twins, fact asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning, on the baby boy.

 

"Is that where-?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

 

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."

 

"Couldn't you do something about it Dumbledore?"

 

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well- give them here Hagrid- we'd better get this over with."

 

Dumbledore took Harry and Kamryn and turned towards the Dursley's house.

"Could I- could I say good-bye to them, sir?" Hagrid asked. He bent his great, shaggy beard over the twins and gave them what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

 

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall. "You'll wake the Muggles!"

 

"S-s-sorry,"sobbed Hagrid, taking a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it- Lily an' James dead- an' poor little Harry an' Kamryn off ter live with Muggles-"

 

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid the twins gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it in their blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them looked at the little bundles; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

 

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

 

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall- Professor Dumbledore, sir."

 

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine to life; with a roar it rose into the and off into the night.

 

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.

 

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end off the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.

 

"Good luck, Harry. Kamryn," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

"Up! Get up! Now!"

 

There was a sharp rap on the door. Jumping up I the air, I managed to fall off the bed.

 

"Are you up yet?" That's my aunt. She took me and my twin brother, Harry, in when our parents died. I felt bad for Harry though.

 

"Yes Aunt Petunia," I told her.

 

"Good girl. Now get that ungrateful brother of yours up," she said.

This is why I said I was sorry for Harry. You see, my aunt, uncle, and cousin hated him but favored me. I was always the good girl. Harry would get into trouble all the time. Half the time it wasn't even his fault.

 

Sighing, I got up and got dressed, making sure to brush my hair. I opened my door to see my cousin, Dudley, run out of his room.

 

"Morning Kamryn," he said. He wasn't as bad as Harry says he was. He says I'm too nice for my own good. Even my uncle says so. Maybe that's why they're nice to me.

 

"Good morning Dudley. Happy birthday," I told my cousin. He smiled than ran to the stairs, running up and down, screaming "Get up Potter!" This was another reason I was sorry for my twin. His room was the broom closet, under the stairs. My energetic cousin grabbed my hand then ran down the stairs. Letting go of me, he slammed Harry back into the closet. Sighing again I opened the door and helped my brother.

 

"How you act like that is beyond me," he mumbled. I hate how they treat my twin but I never let it show. Walking into the kitchen my uncle looks up from his paper.

 

"Good morning Kamryn," he said smiling.

 

"Morning Uncle Vernon."

 

"Comb your hair!" This was my uncles way of greeting Harry.

 

"Why don't you sit down dear," Aunt Petunia told me.

 

"If it's not too much to ask, I'd like to help with breakfast," I told her.

 

She walked to her husband muttering, "Just like her mother." I smiled while listening to their conversation.

 

"How many are there?" Dudley asked, referring to the presents sitting on the floor.

 

"Thirty-six. Counted them myself," Uncle Vernon told him. My cousins face fell.

 

"Thirty-six," he yelled. "That's two less than last year!"

 

I smiled and placed the bacon and eggs on the table. "Dudley, that doesn't include Aunt Marge's or mine." I winked.

 

"That's right Dudleykins," Aunt Petunia stepped in. "Daddy and I were planning on getting you an extra present while we were out."

 

Dudley perked back up, "That makes thirty-." He hesitated.

 

"Thirty-nine," I whispered.

 

"Thirty-nine," he said louder.

 

Uncle Vernon chuckled. At that moment the phone rang in the other room. Aunt Petunia went to answer it while the rest of us watched Dudley open his presents. Aunt Petunia came back from the phone looking angry and worried.

 

"Bad news Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take him." She jerked her head towards Harry. I was their 'good girl', they didn't care what I did.

 

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger 

restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harry was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. I always went along to keep him company. I could tell my twin hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and she made us look at photographs of all the cats she's owned. I loved cats so I didn't really mind being there.

 

"Now what?" Aunt Petunia asked.

 

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

 

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy."

 

"I suppose we could take them to the zoo," Aunt Petunia said slowly. All of a sudden Dudley burst into fake tears. He started going on about how much he didn't want Harry going and ruining everything.

 

Just then, the doorbell rang. Moments later Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with the face of a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their back while Dudley hits them. The rat even had a crush on me. Dudley stopped fake crying at once.

Half an hour later, Harry and I were sitting I were sitting in the back of the Dursley's car. Uncle Vernon had taken us aside before we left the house.

 

"I'm warning you," he had growled pointing at the both of us. "I'm warning you now- any funny business, any at all- and you'll be in that cupboard, or room from until christmas." We could both tell that he was talking more to Harry than me.

 

There was always something going wrong when Harry and I were together. The last time, Harry had managed to set the drapes on fire. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were furious. They ended up grounding Harry for a month because of it.

 

Dudley and Piers found the reptile house and ran inside. I am terrified of snakes but I had to stay with the others. Harry came up beside me and pulled me close.

 

"Everything is going to be fine. They're behind glass so they can't touch you," he told me. As much as I wanted to believe my brother, I couldn't.

 

"What's wrong with you Potter?" We turned to find the duo walking back.

 

"Don't tell me little Potter is scared of reptiles," Piers teased.

 

"Terrified," I responded. I ignored their snickers and dragged Harry into the Reptile House.

 

Once we were inside I almost ran for it. Harry grabbed my arm and shook his head. Dragging us over to the Dursley's, who were standing in front of the python, I tried not to freak out.

 

"Harry," I squeaked.

 

"You'll be fine," he reassured me. I walked behind him keeping a tight grip on the back of his shirt. Dudley and Piers were trying on the glass trying to get the snake to move.

 

"Leave him alone and come back later," I said. The boys gave me a dirty look but moved on.

 

"Sorry about them," Harry said. The giant snake lifted his head and looked at us.

 

"Can you hear us?" I asked it. I watched in mild awe as it nodded its head.

 

"Mum! Dad! Look at what the snakes doing," Dudley yelled from behind us. All of a sudden Harry and I were pushed to the ground. The older boy pushed his face up on the glass, which vanished in the blink of an eye. The snake dragged its body out of the enclosure and made its way towards us. I squealed and backed up to the wall.

 

"Thanks," it hissed before taking off, leaving others screaming. Aunt Petunia started freaking out beside me. Turning my head I saw Dudley trapped on the other side of the glass. Uncle Vernon looked at Harry and I, giving us both a dirty look. He barely glanced at me before turning the brunt of his glare on my twin.

 

We waited a half hour before we could get someone to help. On the way out I helped Aunt Petunia with Dudley as Uncle Vernon dragged Harry into the car.


	3. Chapter 3

The escape of the Brazillion boa constrictor earned Harry his longest-ever punishment. By the time he was allowed out of his cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already managed to break his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and knocked down Mrs. Figg off her crutches with his racing bike. Harry and I were glad school was over but there was no escaping Dudley's gang, who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all quite eager to join in on Dudley's favorite sport: Harry Hunting. That's why he spent so much time out of the house.

 

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform. Smeltings is the private school Uncle Vernon went to. Piers would, thankfully, be joining Dudley. Harry and I are going to a local school called Stonewall High. Anyway, this left us twins to be left with Mrs. Figg. It turns out that she had broken her leg tripping over one of her many cats. She let us watch television and gave us a bit of chocolate cake, which I politely declined.

 

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobby sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.

 

When I woke the next morning, there was a horrible smell coming from the kitchen. Investigating, I found the source to be a metal tub sitting in the sink. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.

 

"What's this," Harry asked. Aunt Petunia pursed her lips before responding.

 

"Your new school uniform," she said. "Kamryn dear, we'll go shopping later."

 

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry's new uniform. Immediately I got a cup of coffee for Uncle Vernon, expertly dodging Dudley's Smelting stick. The boy had taken a liking to bringing it with him wherever he went. Currently he was banging it around on the table.

 

"Where would you like to go shopping today dearie," Aunt Petunia asked me.

 

"I'd like to go to the second hand store in London, if you don't mind," I said.

 

"Whatever for," Uncle Vernon asked.

 

"Oh Vernon," Aunt Petunia chastised. "Let the girl decide where she wants to go. She gets most of her clothes from there anyway."

 

"Really," he exclaimed. "They all look brand new." The click of the mail slot could be heard as the letters were discarded on the doormat.

 

"Get the maul, Dudley," Uncle Vernon said, returning to his paper.

 

"Make Harry get it.

 

"Get the mail, Harry."

 

"Make Dudley get it."

 

"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley." My poor twin dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail.

 

"Hurry up, boy," Uncle Vernon yelled as I was setting food down on the table. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?"

 

Harry came back in and handed the letters to our uncle, only for him to keep staring at one. I decided it wasn't my place to ask about it. Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

 

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk."

 

"Dad," Dudley yelled suddenly. "Dad, Harry's got something!" Harry was just opening the letter when Uncle Vernon jerked it out of his hands.

 

"That's mine," Harry said, trying to snatch it back.

 

"Who'd be writing to you," he sneered glancing at the envelope. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. Within seconds it was a grayish white. I wonder what sort of letter would make him react like that.

 

"Petunia," he gasped.

 

Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked like she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

 

"Vernon! Oh my goodness- Vernon!"

 

They stared at each other, seeming to forget about the three of us. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored as he gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

 

"I want to read the letter," he said loudly.

 

"I want to read it," Harry said furiously. "as it's mine and Kam's"

 

"Get out, the three of you," Uncle Vernon croaked, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope. I nodded and quickly went out of the room, still hearing the other two argue.

 

"I want my letter," I heard Harry shout.

 

"Let me see it," Dudley demanded. I shut the door to my room as Uncle Vernon tossed the two boys out of the kitchen. The rest of the day flew by without and confrontations. "Harry was left with Mrs. Figg, Uncle Vernon went to work, and Aunt Petunia took Dudley and I shopping like she had said. When Uncle Vernon got home, he announced that Harry would be getting Dudley's spare room. You see, there were five bedrooms in the house. One for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually for Aunt Marge), one where Dudley slept, my room, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that couldn't fit in his actual bedroom. Downstairs I could hear the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother.

 

Next morning, at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, been sick on purpose, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise (which I didn't know he'd owned) through the roof of the greenhouse, and he still didn't get his room back. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other rather darkly. Ever since the letter, Uncle Vernon has made Dudley get the mail. Each day there would be a fight after the stupid letter arrives. For a week this happened. On Friday, no less than twelve letters had arrived for Harry and I. They all couldn't fit through the mail slot therefore they were pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.

 

Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could get out. On Saturday, things seemed to be getting out of hand. Twenty-four letters to us twins found their way into the house. They had ended up rolled and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.

 

"Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly," Dudley asked us in amazement.

 

"I have no idea," I said from my spot in the kitchen. I looked up from my sketchbook and gestured for my aunt. Showing her my new drawing she hugged me in delight.

 

"Vernon come look," she called to my uncle. Uncle Vernon came lumbering in and looked over my shoulder.

 

"Fine job you've done there Princess," he said. "Before you know it you'll be designing for all these famous people."

 

"When this blows over, we need to get you someone who can help produce those lovely clothes of yours," she said. Smiling I flipped the page and started on another dress.

 

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.

 

"No post on Sunday's," he reminded us cheerfully. No sooner than he'd said that something came whizzing out of the kitchen chimney and caught him sharply on the back of the head. The next moment, hundreds of letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursley's and I ducked, but Harry leapt into the air trying to catch one. Uncle Vernon yelled at us to get out as he seized Harry around the waist and threw him into the hall. After everyone had gotten out of the house, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut.

 

"That does it," he said trying to speak calmly. "I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"

 

Then minutes later we were wrenching our way through the boarded-up doors and was in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat. Uncle Vernon had hit him on the head for holding us up while he tried to pack up his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag. We drove for hours without stopping for anything. Even Aunt Petunia never asked where we were going. By nightfall Dudley was howling. He was hungry, he'd missed five television programs he had wanted to see, and he'd never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer.

 

At last, Uncle Vernon stopped outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley, Harry and I had to share a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored, but Harry and I stayed awake, staring down at the lights of passing cars.

 

The next morning we had stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast. We had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to our table.

 

"Excuse me, but are two of you Mr. and Ms. Potter? I got about a hundred of these at the front desk." Harry made to grab the letter but Uncle Vernon smacked his hand away. Later that day, Aunt Petunia asked why I never asked about the letters addressed to Harry and I.

 

"You and Uncle Vernon are going through a lot of trouble to keep us from seeing those letters," I responded. "Yeah I'm curious, but I won't pry. It's none of my business why you two are keeping this a secret. You have your reasons so I'll respect that." My aunt smiled at me and kissed my head.

 

After a while Uncle Vernon had us back in the car. He drove us in the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and took off again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage. As we parked at the coast Dudley reminded us that today was Monday. Meaning our birthday was tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

"Happy birthday Harry," I whispered as we lay on the cold, dusty floor. As soon as I said it, there was a booming noise coming from outside.

 

"Where's the cannon," Dudley asked stupidly, waking up from his sleep. Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room as another sound went off, holding a rifle.

 

"Who's there," he shouted. "I warn you, I'm armed."

 

Suddenly the door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and landed on the floor with a deafening crash. A giant man stood in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could made out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair. The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame.

 

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh," he asked looking at my relatives. I scrambled up and slid to Harry's side as he strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

 

"Budge up, yeh great lump," the stranger said. Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind Aunt Petunia, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

 

"An' here's Harry and Kamryn," the giant said cheerfully, turning to us. I glanced up at the man to see a hint of a smile hidden beneath his beard. "Las' time I saw you two, you was only babies. Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mom's eyes. And yeh Kamryn, yer a spittin' image o' yer mom."

 

"I demand that you leave at once," Uncle Vernon rasped trying to sound in control. "You are breaking and entering.

 

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," the giant said. He reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot, and threw it into a corner of the room. Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

 

"Anyway," The giant said, turning his back on the Dursley's. "A very happy birthday to yehs. Got summat fer yeh here. I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

 

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Peering over Harry's shoulder he opened the box to reveal a large cake with Happy Birthday Harry and Kamryn written on it in green icing.

 

"Thank you," I said looking up at the man.

 

"Who are you," Harry asked. Elbowing him in the side I glared at him for being rude. The giant just chuckled.

 

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts." Hagrid turned to the fireplace and pulled out his umbrella. At first I thought he was going to set it down beside him, but he gestured to the fireplace and little fireballs came out the tip. "Of course, yeh already know about Hogwarts."

 

"I'm sorry but we've never heard of it," I said confused. Hagrid turned to us in confusion.

 

"No," he asked. "Blimey Harry, Kamryn, didn't yeh ever wonder where yer mom and dad learned it all?"

 

"All what," Harry asked.

 

"All what," Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"

 

He had leapt to his feet and turned towards the Dursley's. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut.

 

"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled. "That these kids- these kids! - know nothin' abou'- about anything?"

 

"We know some things," I said offended. "We can do math and stuff."

 

But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said," About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world."

 

"What world," Harry asked. Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.

 

"Dursley," he boomed. Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewinble." Hagrid stared wildly at us.

 

"But yeh must know about yer mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

 

"Our parents were famous," I asked still confused about this whole situation.

 

"Yeh don' know... yeh don' know..." Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair and stared at us bewildered.

 

"Yeh don' know what yeh are," he said finally.

 

"Stop," Uncle Vernon commanded finally finding his voice. "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell those children anything!"

 

"You never told them? Never told them what was in the letters Dumbledore left fer them? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from them all these years?"

 

"Kept what away from us," Harry asked eagerly. Uncle Vernon repeated his command not to tell us anything. Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

 

"Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," Hagrid said. "Kamryn, Harry- yer a witch and wizard."

 

"I'm a what," Harry gasped.

 

"A wizard, o' course," Hagrid said sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower. "An' a thumpin' good'un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh read yer letter." Harry reached out and grabbed the two enveloped and handed me one. The front said Ms. K. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. Pulling out the letter it read:

 

HOGWARTSSCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Ms. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

 

"What does it mean, they await my owl," I asked Hagrid.

 

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," Hagrid said, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse. From yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl- a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl- a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note. Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it into its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.

 

"Where was I," Hagrid said. At that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-face but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

 

"They're not going," he said.

 

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop them," Hagrid grunted.

 

"A what," Harry asked interested.

 

"A Muggle," Hagrid explained. "It's what we call nonmagic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

 

"We swore when we took them in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said our uncle. "Swore we'd stamp it out of them! Wizard indeed!"

 

"You knew," I accused. "You knew what we were and you never told us?"

 

"Knew," Aunt Petunia shrieked. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared to that- that school- and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was- a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were so proud of having a witch in the family! Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as- as- abnormal- and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"

 

"Blown up," I yelled. "You told us they died in a car crash!"

 

"Car crash," Hagrid roared jumping up. "A car crash kill Lily an' James Potter?"

The next morning Hagrid took us to London and then to a place called Diagon Alley. There we got our books, equipment, robes, and wands. For a birthday present, Hagrid got Harry an owl and me a cat. The cat, Jinx, was apparently part Kneazle.

 

On the train we met a boy named Ron Weasley and a girl named Hermione Granger. They were nice but I got the feeling Hermione was a little stuck up. When we finally arrived at Hogwarts I, literally, ran into a boy named Draco Malfoy. Even though he's a major git to my new friends, I still have a crush on him. He got sorted into Slytherin. The four of us, Harry, Ron, Hermione and I, we were all sorted into Gryffindor together.

 

The first year was eventful to say the least. The potions professor, Snape, loathed my brother but favored me. The DADA teacher, Professor Quirell, was a stuttering fool. You couldn't even understand a single word he said.

 

Oh, and Harry and I made the Quidditch team. It's like soccer only you're in the air. We were the only first years on the team for centuries. Apparently we took after our dad, who was a Seeker like Harry. I'm a Chaser along with Katie and Angelina. Fred and George were on the team too. They seriously saved my butt when my broom was being jinxed.

 

Later on in the year the four of us were digging around for the location of the Sorceror's Stone. Harry and the others believed that Profeessor Snape was going to steal it but as it turns out, Professor Quirrell was the culprit. Voldemort hijacked his body in order to get the Stone. I guess Harry defeated them after they knocked me out.

 

Over the summer a house elf had stolen all of our letters in order to keep us home, warning us that Hogwarts wasn't safe this year. Being the rebels we were, we ignored that and got ourselves grounded. Uncle Vernon placed bars on our windows so we couldn't get out. Ron, Fred and George came to our rescue though. They stole their dad's flying car and took us to their home. There we met Mr. Weasley who worked at the Ministry of Magic. In Diagon Alley we found out who the new DADA professor was. I, again, ran into Draco only this time he had his dad with him. Mr. Malfoy said something to Mr. Weasley causing them to get into a fight. On his way out Draco pulled me aside and told me how sorry he was that his dad made a scene like that and kissed my cheek.

 

Second year was worse. Not even halfway through the year, students were being petrified. Hermione and I being two of them. Harry said that Draco rarely left my side when I was in the hospital wing. Anyway, the monster turned out to be a Basilisk, which makes sense. The monster took Ginny, Ron's younger sister, and almost killed her. Ron and Harry made Professor Lockhart, a self absorbed git, go down into the Chamber of Secrets to save her. It was a long battle but Harry made it through like always.

 

And now we come to third year. I'm currently sitting in my room while Aunt Marge is visiting. I don't feel like dealing with her today. I'm just glad I got Aunt Petunia to sign my Hogsmeade permission slip before I forgot about it.


End file.
